


Rosemåling

by colazitron



Series: 2017 December Holiday Fic Countdown [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, flea market shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Isak wants a third chair for their apartment and Even wants to flea market shop.





	Rosemåling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinemaObsessive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinemaObsessive/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made all of this up and am sharing it for fun.

“Even?” Isak says, looking over at Even sat across from him at their little table.

Even's just brought them a can of beer each after clearing away the dishes from dinner, and they've both been silent for a bit, just letting the bustle of a Saturday spent out at work and with friends fade away.

“Hm?” Even asks, looking up from his phone.

“I think we should get a third chair.”

“A third chair?” Even echoes.

“Yes, for the apartment,” Isak says.

Even smiles a little, eyes glittering. Isak rolls his eyes in response.

“Oh, for the apartment? I thought you might be talking about your installation art piece.”

“Haha,” Isak says drily. “I just think we've got a bit of money saved up between your tips and the few tutoring sessions I've been doing. And if we go a bit over our budget my dad will probably send money for Christmas, so it'll be fine.”

“And you want to spend it on a chair?” Even asks, eyebrows climbing up his forehead, lips still curled up in that smile that's at least half smirk.

“Well, it would be good if we could have a guest over without one of us having to sit on the bed,” Isak points out.

“But what if we have two guests?” Even teases.

Isak barely resists the temptation to roll his eyes again.

“We never have two guests though. We either have one guest or, like, several. And we can't fit that many chairs in here anyway, so it doesn't matter then.”

Even nods like he sees Isak's point, and then shrugs.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he says. “So a chair?”

Isak smiles. “Yeah. I thought-- you originally wanted to flea market shop for some things for the apartment last spring, so we could do that for the chair?”

Even beams.

“Is that my Christmas present? Because I would accept that as my Christmas present,” he says.

This time Isak does roll his eyes again. God, it's like Even's on a personal mission to give Isak eye strain.

“No, that's not your Christmas present.”

“You realise I'm going to get the most hipster chair I can find,” Even says.

Isak smiles a little to himself, and bites his lip against the sudden onset of butterflies in his belly.

“Yeah, I realise that. I've made my peace with being in love with a complete hipster.”

Even smiles back, eyes lit up by it and leans forward across the table so he can grab the front of Isak's sweatshirt and pull him in for a sweet kiss. The edge of their table is digging into Isak's belly a bit, but he'd put up with much worse if it got him a kiss from Even.

“When do you wanna go?” Even asks, still keeping hold of Isak's sweatshirt.

“I was thinking we could go to Birkelunden Market in Løkka tomorrow? They start at noon and their website says they have 'small furniture',” Isak says. “That way if we don't find anything we can try somewhere else next weekend.”

“And we don't have to get up early,” Even adds.

Isak grins. “And we can sleep in, yes.”

“Okay, let's do that then,” Even says, brushing his nose against Isak's. “Wanna watch a movie? Your pick.”

“Is that my Christmas present?” Isak teases, Even using the grip on his sweatshirt to shake him a little in admonishment.

Isak grins and captures Even's lips in another kiss. It takes another fifteen minutes before they get up to pick a movie. 

  


Noon the following day sees the thin layer of snow crunching underneath their boots, the two of them wrapped up in coats, and hats, and scarves, their mittened hands slipping out of each other's hold every now and then only for one or the other to stubbornly reach back over to link their hands again. 

“We don't even have a record player, baby,” Isak says, not entirely without exasperation, when he has to pull Even away from the fourth guy with a beard selling vinyl records out of cardboard boxes.

“That could be my Christmas present, if you're still looking,” Even suggests, and pecks Isak's lips briefly, but doesn't resist being pulled along. They've already spent a good hour just wandering around, and Isak guesses Even's nose is feeling the cold as much as his own is. It's not bad yet, but in another hour or so Isak is going to look forward to being back inside.

“I'm not answering that,” Isak says, because Even is the kind of person who wants his present to be a complete surprise, but will also ask questions about it incessantly.

Even laughs and slings an arm around Isak's shoulders to pull him in closer, pressing a kiss to the knit beanie that covers his hair. Isak nuzzles his face into Even's coat for a moment despite the chill clinging to it and wraps his own arm around Even's waist in return. 

“What about this one, then?” Even asks when they pass another seller of 'small furniture'. Not much of which is actually chairs, as they have come to learn, but they've found a few so far. They've all been rejected because they were either too boring (Even), or looked like they were about two weeks from falling apart (Isak).

This one is a simple wooden chair, but the back rest has a singular yellow flower painted on it, like someone thought they might try their hand at rosemaling and then quickly realised they have no idea what they're doing.

Isak tries to pretend he can't see the wide, hopeful grin on Even's face while he takes time to inspect the chair like he has any idea what he's supposed to be checking for. It doesn't look like it'll fall apart any time soon at least. It feels sturdy when he shakes it a bit, and it doesn't creak ominously when he sits down in it. Most importantly, going by Even's expression, the flower is yellow. Isak doesn't mind yellow, but he wonders if Even would be equally as obsessed with any other colour if Isak had used it as an example on that fateful Saturday. Had he known what he was signing himself up for then maybe he'd have thought about which colour he wanted their lives to be dominated by.

Isak glances over at the bored girl roughly their age who's manning this particular sales table (probably for someone else), and then looks back at Even.

“You're sure you want this one?” he asks. The rosemaling attempt isn't exactly stellar and the chair itself is incredibly plain.

“I'm sure,” Even says.

Isak waves a hand at him in defeat..

“Alright. Go ask her how much.”

Even grins, and grabs Isak's face between his hands, mittens a little damp on Isak's cheeks, to press a kiss to his lips. 

“Be right back.”

Isak indulges in a smitten little smile, and then gets back up from the chair to stare down at it some more like it'll give him any answers. What exactly is he supposed to check for when buying furniture at a flea market?

No five minutes later, Even comes bounding over with the girl in tow.

“It's 200,” Even announces.

It's pretty much what Isak expected to spend, so he knows they can afford it, especially since Isak's father will definitely just send some money for Christmas. And Even's staring at him like a kid in a candy store, eyes all wide and glittery.

“Okay, fine,” he says, and then turns to the girl. “We'll take it.”

She shrugs, and Even positively beams. 

“That's 200 then,” she says.

Even grins at Isak while he digs his wallet out of his pocket and by the time Isak's handed over the money, Even's already picked up the chair like he's worried someone else might come away and try to snatch it right from under their noses.

“Thank you. Have a nice afternoon,” Even says.

“Yeah. You too,” the girl says, like she really didn't expect this level of interaction.

Isak only lifts his hand in an imitation of a wave and then turns around to lead Even back out of the market. 

It's a bit of a hassle getting the chair back to the apartment on public transport, but by the time it's stood by their table, with its back to their small balcony, it looks like it's always been a part of their home. 

“You sure this wasn't my Christmas present?” Even asks, hooking his chin over Isak's shoulder.

Isak laughs and turns around in the circle of Even's arms wrapped around his stomach.

“I'm sure,” he says, and kisses any further questions away before Even can think to ask them.

  


**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to leave me some prompts for my 2017 December Holiday Fic Countdown, you can do that [in my tumblr ask box](http://fille-lioncelle.tumblr.com/ask)!


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